Blood Music

For lack of sleep and recriminations

We weave this way and that

The lull as beckoning and bright as it seems

That wavers in the dark alleys of our minds and hearts

James Taylor bleats about sweet dreams and flying machines

in pieces on the ground

and seeing you somehow one more time again

and amidst it all

was it always this deep?

If my politic is music

and my rights drawn from the views I propose

please then,

grace me with a harmony to ease this silent night

Let it ring through the hallways

And sound down the avenues

And give light to the street beggars on corners

And be what it is,

and not what it seems,

and this makes all the difference

My grandmother married a Captain

My Father was a great tree of protection

My mother was a sparrow resting upon the branch

Comfort was always my friend.

Over my years,

I've been broken hearted. I've been a scorned child. I've been a brat. I've been elated. I've enjoyed. I've been enraptured. I've been moved so heavily I was shaking.

I've been scared.

I've been spoiled.

I've been sorry.

Does my music match my story?

I don't claim to own music, it translates cultures and fills hearts and evokes passion and love.

It shares politics.

I only claim to know the music of my heart.